Where Is That Second Star To The Right?

I don’t know how many attempts I’ve had in making a single entry about what’s been going on with my life. And you have no idea how long this entry has been left on the draft section waiting to get posted. It’s shouldn’t even be that hard because there’s a LOT of things that is in need of telling.

But the drastic inability to convert experiences and thoughts into words has been terrifying me. Along with that, my loss in interest in reading and my passion for sketching.

I am starting to feel frustrated. I keep telling myself that maybe I should give myself a break. I mean, I just got out of school and that I should have fun and stuff or maybe this is all just a phase and that I had to give myself some time to get my mind off things. I mean, I’m still on the adjustment period because of having an actual job and all and that changed my daily routines entirely.

It does take most of my time considering I would often leave the house at 8 am and come home at 10 in the evening from Mondays to Fridays. And on weekends, well, I haven’t had a day off on a weekend because I’ve been going to places a lot in which you won’t know about because I haven’t been talking about them.

But then again what if it’s not just a phase? What if this is the driveless, bookless and dull life that I will have until I grow old and wither away? Is this how you become an adult? That you will have other stuff to think about? And that you will have no time doing the things that you promised to yourself to never stop doing for the rest of your life.

But I’ve known adults who still find time for things outside their jobs that they actually love. And they do it flawlessly. And I wish I could do that too. Because I still want to keep enjoying books and drawing in my free time.

And I want to keep writing for the rest of my life because I don’t want to forget when I tell stories. When I grow old, I want to be the one who lives to tell the stories of my youth. And when I die, I still want to be the one who tells the stories of my youth. And I can only do that by writing about it.

It sounds a bit ambitious because who is ever sure of their future? I mean, who is ever that constant that after periods of experiences in their lives, they still think and want and believe on the same things.

How do you fuel your life with excitement for the things you love? How do you keep interested? Curious? Obsessed? How do you do this when you have priorities set?

Adult in training is horrible.

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